The Gorgons Gaze # 2 (Companions Quartet) (32 page)

Mrs. Clamworthy’s face lightened as she saw someone approaching through the trees, a cane tucked under one
arm. “Look, here’s Captain Graves. He’ll be able to give you the latest news and stop you from doing anything rash.”

“Col, my boy, delighted you’re up and about!” barked Captain Graves, his neat moustache twitching with a smile on seeing his pupil. “Actually, I’m pleased to see you for another reason. We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands.”

“Skylark?” Col asked anxiously.

“He’s…er…well, you’d better come and see for yourself.”

“But, Michael, Col’s injured!” Mrs. Clamworthy protested. “He’s got a broken leg. He can’t go hopping off without causing himself more damage.”

“Wait a second.” Captain Graves gave a piercing whistle, and Mags trotted out of the trees. “Intelligent animal, this one,” he said with approval. “You can still sit on a horse, can’t you, my boy?”

“Yeah,” Col replied. Captain Graves helped Col onto Mags’s back, his leg sticking out awkwardly in its plaster.

“Off we go.” Captain Graves took the horse’s halter. “Are you coming, Lavinia?”

Mrs. Clamworthy, who had long since decided that she was not going to let her grandson out of her sight again that day, followed them along the woodland track that led to the clearing.

“Skylark’s all right, isn’t he, Captain?” Col asked hopefully.

“He’ll be all right now. We could’ve used the universal to help Windfoal heal him, but apparently she’s incommunicado at the moment. No, the problem is that itwasn’t us who found him.”

“And Argand—the golden dragon?”

“She’s been found, too. Tough as old boots are dragons—even young ones. Her pride rather than her body was injured—that’s what Dr. Brock says.”

“So, who did find Skylark?” Col asked, though he could guess the answer.

“You’ll see.”

Mags stepped out of the lengthening evening shadows into the clearing. There was a nip in the air. Col shivered in the breeze that drove drifts of seed heads across the open ground like snowflakes. On the far side, in the shelter of the large chestnut tree, he could see a huddle of people gathered around something on the ground. He could sense a presence, and the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle—it was Skylark!

Urging Mags through the waist-high bracken, Col dismounted heavily onto his good leg, swearing softly as his wounds protested, and collapsed beside his friend, throwing his arms around Skylark’s neck and burying his head in the pegasus’s mane. Instantly, their connection was re-forged. Col and Skylark rejoiced to be together again after they both had feared the other dead. Skylark’s right wing was broken, but he had managed to control
his tumble with his left and landed heavily, spraining his right foreleg. He had been fortunate; the wing had been set in a splint and his other injuries cleaned and dressed, even before the Society had found him.

“Who did this?” Col wondered. He looked up and saw Rat grinning down at him.

“That’s an amazing beast you’ve got there, Col Clamworthy.” Rat laughed. “I told you I’d look after it for you.”

Col could see Dr. Brock and Captain Graves exchange a worried look. This was a major problem—a mythical creature had been exposed to an outsider and there was no way of hiding the truth from him. They could not even pretend it was some elaborate costume, as the boy had tended Skylark and knew all too well that he was made of flesh, blood, and bone.

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me now that that dragon on your helmet was real, too,” Rat continued. Dr. Brock stuffed something deeper inside his jacket.

“Um…” said Col.

“Don’t worry, Col,” Rat said, “I won’t tell anyone your little secret. I see things like this all the time. Me dad thinks I’m mad but I’ve seen the little people in the trees and rivers.”

Col looked up at Dr. Brock. Surely Rat must have the gift? How else would he have seen all these things? Skylark had sensed something in him already when they
had first met. Dr. Brock nodded, understanding Col’s unspoken question.

“Thanks, Rat. Thanks for looking after Skylark,” Col said. “Would you mind not telling anyone about this?”

“No worries! I’ve already said I won’t.”

“And would you be interested in meeting some more friends of mine—some people who’d like to find out more about you?”

Rat looked suspicious.

“Not to do anything to you,” Col added quickly, “but to see if you might want to join our Society?”

“Is that where you got this winged horse from?”

“Sort of. I didn’t get him—I don’t own him—he’s a friend and a member of the Society, too.”

Rat shrugged. “You’re cracked, Col Clamworthy, but it sounds as if it might be a laugh. I’ll meet your friends.”

“Now, Col, I really insist that you come home with me,” Mrs. Clamworthy broke in. “Sitting on the damp ground—riding horses—you’ll be back in the hospital in traction if you’re not careful.”

“You’d better do as the lady says,” said Rat with a respectful nod to Col’s grandmother. He had always been scrupulously polite to her whenever he had visited Col’s home, having a healthy fear of matriarchs. He helped pull Col to his feet and gave him his shoulder to lean on as Col hopped back to Mags. “There was a dragon, wasn’t there?” he said quietly in Col’s ear. “And I
know—I have to keep quiet about that, too, don’t I?”

Col floundered for an answer but Rat cut him short by giving him a wink. “No one would believe me even if I did tell them,” he said. “They’re so used to hearing my stories, they just think I’m cracked. It’s good to know that you’re cracked, too.”.

20
Hescombe

T
ense silence reigned at the breakfast table at Lionheart Lodge. For once, Godiva was completely innocent—she had been very quiet since returning from Mallins Wood. The protagonists in this scene were Connie and her parents. The feelings of relief that had let Connie off any explanations the previous evening had been replaced this morning by a determination on the part of her parents to “get to the bottom of things,” but they were being met with evasive answers from their daughter. She neither wanted to explain clearly where she had been nor give reasons for her abrupt departure from her great-aunt’s home.

“But if it wasn’t so very bad, as you maintain, Connie,” said her mother with a note of sharpness in her voice, “why on Earth did you run away? You can’t tell me you
were so worried about a few trees you put us through all this agony.”

Connie looked down at her cereal, which was sagging in the milk untouched. She had no appetite.

“I don’t think you realize what a fuss you’ve caused,” her father said angrily. “You’ve had the police of half the country out looking for you, national appeals—you can’t even begin to imagine what your mother and I have suffered—and you have the gall to sit there without giving us a single word of credible explanation.”

What could she say? Connie thought miserably. They were right to be cross with her. Everyone would be cross with her—even the Society members who knew the truth—because she had foolishly wandered into a trap. She now saw that she should have gone to someone first for advice—Evelyn, for example—and saved everyone a lot of heartache and danger. Of course, she had not meant to be away so long. She had meant to return at once with Col and apologize for disappearing for a weekend, accepting the inevitable punishment handed out by Godiva. She had not meant for it to end like this.

From the other side of the table, Godiva was watching her niece closely. Hugh was absent-mindedly buttering and re-buttering the same piece of toast, deeply uncomfortable.

Godiva suddenly spoke up. “Beryl, Gordon, have you asked yourself whether Connie is able to give you a
‘credible explanation’ as you put it?”

Connie flinched, sure that her great-aunt was about to begin another diatribe about the madness induced by the Society.

“It looks to me as though she doesn’t really know why she did what she did, but she does seem sorry for it.” Connie’s jaw dropped—Godiva, defending her! “But I can tell you a few things that I know now: she’s not happy here, she’s happy in Hescombe with her friends. Your daughter is not…well, not entirely normal, but that’s not always a bad thing.”

Beryl and Gordon looked at each other in astonishment. Hugh put his toast down and stared at his sister. Slowly, his face broke into a grin.

“If you are not going to take her back with you to Manila…” continued Godiva.

Beryl tutted. “That isn’t possible, Godiva. What would we do about schools for a girl like Connie? And we can’t afford to give up our jobs without having new ones to come back to.”

“I know. As I was saying, if you aren’t taking her back to Manila, then I’m afraid I cannot take her back here where I know she’ll be miserable. There is only one answer: she’ll have to go back to Evelyn’s, who I know will have her. As for school, well, after all, she originally had a place at Chartmouth. I’m sure it’s just a question of having a quiet word with the principal.”

“But what about you?” asked Gordon. “I thought you were weaning her off her Society-thing.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that anymore.”

“Why ever not?”

Godiva smiled at Connie. “I’m going to Brazil.”

“You’re what!” exclaimed Gordon.

“You heard me. I’m joining a team trying to save the Amazonian rainforest.”

Gordon choked on his coffee.

Hugh clapped his hands. “Good for you, Iva. What persuaded you?”

“I’ve decided it’s time I made up for past mistakes. I’m sorry, Connie, that I’ve been so hard on you, but I think you of all people know what I was running from.”

Connie nodded. “Yes, I do. I think I’d run from him myself if I had the choice.”

“What’s all this?” spluttered Connie’s father. “Who’s she talking about?”

“Our family inheritance,” said Godiva briskly. “Now, what are you going to do about your daughter?”

“Well, I…” Gordon turned to Hugh. “Are you going to Brazil, too?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Hugh with a fond smile at his sister. “I don’t think she’ll need me anymore.”

“So, can Connie stay with you here?”

“Oh, no,” said Godiva, “I’m going to shut up Lionheart Lodge—let the garden run wild for a while.”

“It’s too big a place for me on my own,” agreed Hugh. “You’ll have to send her back to Shaker Row.”

Gordon and Beryl both looked doubtful.

“But what about that man—the biker-jester man? He’s to blame for half of what went on yesterday according to the papers,” Beryl said with an anxious glance at her daughter.

“No,” said Connie, “that’s all wrong. As I told the policewoman last night, he was trying to help me down but I got up too high.” She felt cheerful about this half-lie, knowing that the whole business was absolutely not Mack Clamworthy’s fault.

“And I’ve been thinking,” said Hugh. “I’d like to be nearer to the sea. A friend of mine, Horace Little—you know, Godiva, the man who took Connie out with his grand-daughter?—he and I, well, we’ve been putting together a little scheme to set up a boat together—he likes swimming apparently, must be mad—so I was thinking of getting a little cottage somewhere on the coast not too far from Evelyn. Connie’s brother could come and stay during his vacation time if he liked. What do you think, Connie?”

“I think it’s a dream come true,” Connie said, smiling at him through glistening eyes. She could not believe this turn of events. It was as if her great-aunt and uncle had waved a magic wand and made all obstacles to her happiness disappear. She felt like leaping across the table and
hugging them.

“Well, I suppose you could help Evelyn keep an eye on Connie for us,” said Gordon, beginning to see the benefits of this scheme. “Monitor developments. Make sure she’s not getting into anything dangerous again.”

“That’s settled then,” said Hugh. “Now, how about some toast, Connie?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” she replied. “But perhaps with a bit less butter.”

After lunch, Connie approached her parents as they were setting off to fetch her brother, Simon, from his school. They were planning for the whole family to spend some time together before they all had to return to their normal lives.

“Would it be okay if I called on Col?” she asked. “He’s at home with a broken leg and I really want to see if he’s all right.”